Crossing from Riga
by Alfsigesey
Summary: Senta was adopted into the Turner family eight years ago… mother chose her to be the bride of their immortal ancestor. The first mate of The Flying Dutchman. Will & Elizabeth’s eldest son. FYI: 2009 and everyone is still alive.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

After centuries of 'civilized' living, Elizabeth could still faint on command. She had never lost her accent, even after living in dozens of countries and speaking eight different languages. She still scanned the exits, and felt nervous whenever she told someone her full name. She was no longer a wanted woman; she had not been wanted for piracy for hundred of years, but she still expected the East India Trading Company to appear and arrest her everywhere she went. It was just a tick that had never quite faded.

It was sometimes hard to be herself when the world she belonged to had struggled for air and died before her very eyes, so many eons ago. She still watched people out of the corner of her eye, and found her hand drifting to her hip when she sensed unexpected movement. She hadn't carried a sword for a long time, but she still reached for it.

There had been no need for fighting or violence after the world calmed down.

"Are the Gods all dead?" her oldest son had once asked her this in… eighteen ninety-three. Maybe. It could have been nineteen-twenty.

The world was quiet now. Evil was a subtle thing rather than a brooding supernatural presence.

Elizabeth was all alone in the parking lot outside of the Safeway when her naturally keen senses alerted her to a shadowy figure waiting just out of sight behind a broken streetlamp. Her hand flinched to her hip, but there was no sword. No matter, she had killed men with her bare hands before—it had just been awhile.

"Captain Swann, you look just the same," the old friend walked into the dimness and her heart jumped as she recognized the wide smile, grey beard, blue eyes and ruddy complexion of Mr. Gibbs.

"Gibbs?" Elizabeth trilled and gave an excited gasp. She couldn't suppress a wide smile as she threw her arms around his neck. It was Gibbs who had taken Elizabeth and her son to the Fountain of Youth all those ages ago… He had discovered it with Jack Sparrow some years after the last _real_ gathering of the Pirate Lords. The gift of the fountain of youth had meant something very important to the Turner family, since Will was forced to live until someone relieved him of his duties as Captain of the Flying Dutchmen, which might not happen until judgment day… now, at least, he was able to spend bits of eternity with his wife and oldest son, who were also immortal.

"It's good to see you your highness!" the usual red glow in Gibbs' cheeks was more intense as Elizabeth pulled away.

"Mr. Gibbs! You look very well," she exclaimed, "how are you?"

"Very well, very well… I thought as long as I was in the area, I should drop this off to you. Jack was supposed to give it to you months ago, but you know how he is about those kinds of assignments. Anyway, I thought I would just let you be surprised…" he was stuttering nervously and groping in the pockets of his old grey coat now, "…but I thought you might just kill me for it," he smiled and revealed a tattered piece of parchment with a fine script scrawled over it, "Here it is… Will gave this to Jack, with a request to bring it to you."

"Jack saw Will?! What happened?"

"I honestly didn't ask," Gibbs muttered, "I'm sure you can ask Jack yourself next time you see him—anyway—read it!"

Elizabeth eagerly took what she had now supposed to be a letter from Will, but it was something even more precious.

_Legal Binding Magical Contract with Parties Calypso Goddess of the Sea and Captain William Turner III, charged as the Captain of the Flying Dutchmen to ferry the souls of those lost at sea to their eternal gates. Ten years are designated to completing the aforementioned sacred duties, followed by one-day time of leave and a continuation of this cycle._

"I've seen this," Elizabeth commented, "I know the details of Will's contract," she was a little disappointed at first, but Gibbs steered her in the right direction.

"Skip to the end, why don't you…"

"She's made another amendment!" Elizabeth cried, anxious and joyful all at once, "She amended the contract in seventeen-sixty, to allow my baby to take over for his father once in a while…"

_Amendment 1760, As the Goddess of the Sea I have decided to be merciful on my subject William Turner, and in light of his admirable attitude and consistency in fulfilling the commissioned duties I have given him, (especially when compared to his predecessor's performance) I will appoint his son William Weatherby Turner as First Mate of the Flying Dutchman, and give the lad permission to relieve his father of his duties and take his place for ten years in every recorded centaury._

"Right below the old one," Gibbs motioned to the parchment.

_Amendment 2004, As Goddess of the Sea I decree that the leave time of one day be lengthened to ten days from now to all eternity._

"Ten days?! Oh yes, very merciful," it was impossible not to be a little sarcastic but Elizabeth could not be truly cross with the Goddess of the Sea, since she was so very enchanted by the idea of ten whole days with her long absent husband. Since it was still technically the first decade of the twenty-first century, it was Weatherby's turn to take over as Captain of the Flying Dutchman for a decade while his father spent some precious time with his wife. Still, Weatherby and Will had never been able to spend more than a day together in the whole of their lives… it was a dreadful way for a father and son to relate to one another. Even with the amendment that Calypso had added in seventeen-sixty, they were never allowed to really spend any time together.

"It's coming up, isn't it?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded, a lock of golden hair came free from her scarf, "Weatherby and I have tickets to fly to the island tomorrow morning."

"Tickets?" Gibbs frowned and looked disgusted, "You mean to tell me that the Last Pirate King is going to go to the Flying Dutchman's rendezvous point on one of those airplanes?!"

"We certainly are," said Elizabeth coyly, "I'll never understand what it is about you and my Weatherby—he despises traveling by anything but Galleon... flying is so convenient."

"Convenient? Yes…" Gibbs smirked, "But I prefer the salty air and ethereal splendor of the water… Always have… I've got to make a quick stop, but if I leave tonight, I may beat you to the spot."

"Gibbs," Elizabeth smiled again and kissed him on the cheek, "It really is wonderful to see you again."

"G'night Your Majesty, enjoy the complimentary cardboard airplane food… I'll race you there." he winked and merged with the night.


	2. The Turner Family Reunion

Chapter One: The Turner Family Reunion

Senta slept in the red room by the cliffs. It used to be Judith's room before she moved out and got her own apartment near the university. Senta had been adopted into the Turner family as a foster child when she was twelve and Judith was fifteen.

It was the only family that Senta had ever known… And tomorrow was a big day for the family. A few months before, Senta's mother had begun planning for a massive family reunion; all of their living relatives would be coming to stay for almost two weeks at the beach villa. In the eight years that Senta had lived with the Turners, they had never done anything like this.

Senta scratched Ragamuffin's soft ears as the cat slumbered in the disheveled pile of sheets and pillows on the bed. Her fluffy grey tail twitched a little and she stretched her paws, but the cat was still fast asleep.

Rising in the morning on a clear day at the old house was a marvelous experience the sun glistened above the rolling blue waves, sending rays of warmth and colour into the sand of the beach and the white-washed wooden frame of the villa. Today, however, was rather drab and grey, but still warm, so Senta opened the French doors that led to the widow's walk and stretched her arms up to greet the clouds in the sky with a yawn.

"Senta… Senta?" a voice from below the little balcony caught her attention and she leaned over the railing. Her vision of the garden and the graceful woman standing on the path was obscured by a silky mane of black hair.

"Happy Birthday baby!" mother smiled up at her from the stone path in the side garden of the villa. Her eyes were squinted against the light as a few clouds drifted away from the sun and the world welcomed a golden shade. Mother's wrinkles were more noticeable than ever, but aside from that she looked great deal like Judith, with her daughter's dark auburn hair, impish smile and black eyes. Judith and Mother had nearly identical voices, so much so, that people sometimes had trouble telling them apart on the phone.

"Thanks mom," Senta smiled, "I'm really excited about not being a teenager anymore."

"What do you want for your breakfast dinner?"

"French toast… I'll make it," Senta added quickly, when she saw that mother was gathering vegetables in a basket—a clear sign that she was already working on dinner for that night and would be busy enough.

"No, let me," mother smiled widely, "It's your birthday, and besides," her mother glanced meaningfully toward the driveway that was hidden by the farthest corner of the house, "Somebody is waiting downstairs for you."

Senta stood on her tip-toes and strained her neck around to see what mother could be referring to. She gave a squeal of delight as she saw Judith's burgundy Nissan parked in the driveway.

The house was almost a hundred and fifty years old, but the family kept it in good repair. It was three stories plus a guest house further up the hill and a lighthouse close to the cliffs. All together they had forty rooms available and a hundred and twenty places to sleep. The upcoming reunion would mean that almost all of them would be packed, floor to ceiling, with Turners.

Senta raced into the upstairs hallway and slide on the wooden floor. She bounced down the staircase to squeal and ensnare Judith in a hug, "Why didn't you come wake me up!?" she demanded holding out her sister's arms to better inspect her new blouse, "Your _hair_… I love it."

"Mom doesn't," Judith pouted her lip. She had darkened her hair to pitch-black with a number of plum coloured locks at the very base of her neck, "It still looks red in the light," she commented, flipping the majority of the thick curl back over her shoulders, "Come on, I've got your present…"

The girls scurried into the kitchen already discussing the weather and the possibility of swimming later, as well as the excitement of the strange reunion.

Mother was just coming in, their youngest sister France was helping her carry in the basket of fresh veggies and fruit and talking about something very fast, "So—I know you said I need to make the money myself…"

"How is selling _your father's_ old possessions making money yourself?" mother frowned at France, as she bent over to gather black Mabel (Ragamuffin's sister) into her arms.

France bounced anxiously the way she always did when she didn't get her way, her honey-blonde hair was in wet snake-like chunks and she was still wearing her favorite black bikini, a sure sign that she had spent the morning surfing, "I just want to look through the attic at all the old stuff you guys don't want anymore… I figured I could go to a pawn shop and haggle a bit."

"What are you trying to buy?"

"A car," said France, mother and Senta together.

"Oh," said Judith, clearly amused, "Good for you, kiddo."

France squeezed a few tablespoons of water from her wet hair, looking annoyed.

"Honey!" mother groaned.

"Yeah, but my job pays crap—I mean it _paid_ crap," France ignored mother and kept talking as Senta whispered to Judith that France had been fired the day before.

"How did you get fired?" Judith frowned at her little sister.

France was seventeen, and she seemed to have a bit of a problem with keeping a steady job. The result was that she had been earning money for a car for a couple of years… it also didn't help that she had a habit of attending rock concerts and buying especially gaudy jewelry and shoes to wear to said rock concerts.

"I broke a window." France brushed it off with a shrug, "…with another server's tray," she added.

"Right," Judith raised one eyebrow at mother who looked overwhelmed and tired.

"Can I please just look around? I promise, I'll show you whatever I find and you can tell me whether it's okay to sell or not? Please mom, it's just because there's only a month left before school starts and I really, _really_ want to have my own car while I'm a senior! I'll give you fifty percent of the profits!"

"Seventy-five," said mother.

"I was being really generous with fifty!" France stomped her foot looking cross, her sisters were fighting giggles behind the scene.

"You start with the lowest bid, honey, didn't I ever teach you how to haggle properly? Maybe _I_ should try selling the stuff in the attic…"

"Fifty," France blushed.

"Sixty."

"Fifty."

"Sixty."

"Fifty."

"Alright, seventy-five again."

"Mom!"

They could go on like this for a while, so Judith took Senta by the arm and they walked past the garden and toward the cliffs.

"So… France is really growing up." Judith paused to kick her shoes off next to the mailbox, and jogged along beside Senta. She had to take a few bounds to each of Senta's paces since Judith's legs were so much shorter than her sister's.

"Yeah. She's a lot like you," Senta glanced at Judith in time to see her frown in disgust at the comparison between the two of them.

Judith had a very wild high school career; she liked to experiment with a lot more than just her hair and it got her in trouble a handful of times. France was calmer than her older sister in many ways, but it was easy to see that same rebellious streak becoming more prominent as she got older. Judith was not put off by the similarities between herself and France for the reason that most people might think…

The girls began to make their way down the walk and toward the beach below the cliffs. The island was the perfect place to grow up; isolated and mystical in all its natural beauty. For a moment Senta had a flash back of how keyed up and frightened she had been the first time the social worker came with her to meet her new foster family.

The sky was clearing up slowly, turning blue inland, but staying grayish over the water. Senta had not put on shoes and was careful to avoid the occasional rock stuck into the sand while they winded their way to the dancing whitewash. The blue ocean seemed to stretch on forever, with the curve of the earth.

"I remember we had a family reunion like this ten years ago," said Judith suddenly, "It was before you came along," she added when she saw the surprised look on Senta's face. "And I didn't get to go."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure," Judith admitted, "It was really strange… they sent all the kids away."

"Isn't France going to cheer-camp tomorrow, really early?" Senta suddenly realised.

"Yeah," Judith sighed, "And all the younger cousins are going to do other things too… Camp, or they're staying with friends, or their dads," she shrugged, "It was just like that ten years ago. Accept that the reunion only lasted for three days."

"Where did you go while they had the reunion?"

"I stayed with a friend. I came home a little earlier than the other kids… Everyone was acting _really_ weird. They were all quiet and—I don't know, it was just strange. Whenever I asked what they had done while I was gone, they would just say 'grown-up things'—very shady."

"Sounds like a secret, incestuous, wife-swapping circle."

"Eww."

"I was joking… there aren't enough men."

"It could be a secret, incestuous, lesbian, wife-swapping circle."

"Or maybe they just drink a lot," Senta said hopefully, "Maybe they'll let me drink…"

"_I_ won't let you drink," said Judith with a chuckle, "Hey—before I forget again, happy birthday," she had pulled a square package from the inside of her coat. Her hands were shaking a little as she handed it to Senta, and strangely, she didn't meet her eyes.

"Thank you!" Senta held the package in her hands gently for a moment, feeling the familiar shape of a book. She ripped the brown paper open slowly, not wanting to loose any pieces in the sand, "_The Mysteries of Udolpho,_ Judith?! This looks so old… holy hell, how much did you pay for this?" Senta was afraid to check the publication date. She had once seen a first edition sell for nearly eight thousand dollars.

"Happy birthday," Judith kissed Senta on the forehead.

"You're a college student," said Senta in amazement, "Where do you get the money to be so generous?"

"Senta, please… don't worry about it. Happy Birthday bookworm… _really_," she winked and flashed that crooked smile that she shared with mother before she ran ahead to pick up a sea-shell that was about to be washed away by the surf.

Cautiously, Senta handled the beautiful yellowing pages and checked the publication. It was a first edition. "Thank you," she said again, overwhelmed.

France did not think to bring a flashlight up to the attic until she turned the nearly burned-out light on and looked around at the mess of cluttered junk; old broken chairs, cracked mirrors, forgotten china and clothes; objects her family had stories for, and some objects that they did not like to talk about. France's eyes spotted the moth-eaten dress-dummy near the circular window that looked down over the garage. A faded, unused and unfinished wedding dress was still hanging by silver pins from the dummy's body. The delicate lace of the sleeves and hem and the cobwebs seemed to compliment each other.

She kept the trapdoor open for light and pulled the nearest cardboard box towards herself, brushing a honey-coloured lock of hair away from her eyes and catching a cobweb between her fingers. France managed to look through two boxes before she realised that she really needed a flashlight… Everything close to the trapdoor was stuff that they still occasionally had use for, and she would need to travel further back in the mess to find anything she could sell.

After fourty-five minutes of searching France finally sighed in frustration and massaged her neck with her hands. It wasn't that she couldn't find anything valuable… in fact, it was exactly the opposite problem that France was faced with. Everything she saw was beautiful or priceless or interesting—she didn't want to sell anything that she found. She wanted to keep it.

France traced the Celtic-knot design on an old pocket-watch and tried to think of other ways to get the money she wanted. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a leather cachet. More out of vague curiosity than anything else, she picked it up and looked inside. There was a stack of ancient smeared papers covered in very tiny, fine handwriting… The ink was fading and the pages were ripped, probably missing most of the manuscript… but she read a few lines of the top page.

_I, James Shelby Turner swear by my honour that every word I write here is true. I have lead a miraculous life—a prince among Pirates and an adventurer and treasure hunter. I offer in this manuscript, a detailed account of my life thus far, and a much needed explanation to my mother, father, brother and my posterity concerning my decision to forsake the life of an immortal and live out a natural existences, as a man among God's children. As man was intended… _

"Have you found anything?"

France looked up to see mother poking her head up from the trapdoor, her heavy eyes were bright, but her whole face seemed to alter a little when she saw what France was holding.

"James Turner? Is he a relative? How old is this?" she lifted the pages and the cachet, so mother could get a better look.

"Oh, he's pretty far down the line," said mother nonchalantly, "Your father could tell you more about him, but from what I remember, James Turner was crazy… he had all of these delusions about nautical myths and living forever—cursed gold, that kind of thing," she shrugged.

"Awesome! I didn't find anything to sell, but can I hang onto these? I want to read them."

"I guess…" mother looked like she wanted to say no, "Be careful with those, okay? They're really old." She relented, unable to think of a fast excuse for why her daughter shouldn't read them.

France looked at mother and was struck with the strange realization that she was looking very uncomfortable.

"Are you all packed up for leaving tomorrow?" mother asked.

"Almost."

"Why don't you go finish now?"

"I don't have to leave until tomorrow morning…"

"But you may need me to wash something for you, and you won't know until you've sorted through what you want to bring."

France's eyes narrowed at mother, but she packed the pages into the cachet and closed the brass lock, then went to take her advice, however reluctantly.

Mother watched her walk back to her room, already coming up with a plan to hide the cachet and the remnants of James Turner's journal.

Senta blew out all twenty candles in one breath. Mother loved to bake, and everything about the dinner had been homemade and perfect—it was the sort of home that someone like Senta had never dreamed of owning. Mother had this tradition of telling a story about the birth of each child after dessert, but since Senta was not really her own flesh and blood, she had to amend the tradition a little.

"I just felt like someone was missing," she smiled at Senta, her eyes already getting teary. "I just knew our family needed something important, but… well… we thought about adopting, and we were going to adopt a little baby, but _you_ Senta… It kind of happened by accident. I was talking with a friend of mine—a social worker, who mentioned a very special girl; you… the rest is history. I knew you were what this family was missing."

It was one of those awkward moments when you weren't sure whether to make a really inappropriate joke or have a group cuddle. Instead, Senta just smiled at mother who choked back tears and stroked Ragamuffin's fur.

Father appeared over her mother's shoulder and stroked the back of her head affectionately. He was a very good man, and had an excellent attitude about being the only male in the household—including the cats. His looks were strong and dark, he was still reasonably good-looking for a man coming on in years; the kind of married doctor that most wives would worry about, but Senta had never known a tighter bond.

"Come on, presents!" Judith interrupted the pregnant silence as father kissed mother on top of the head, "I want to see who gave her the second best present, because mine was clearly the winner this year."

"Open mine first," France turned pink and suppressed a smile as she handed Senta a very light box wrapped in bright pink paper. Senta opened the box and tipped it over, scarp a paper fell out, on which was written; _I got you an air guitar!_

"Just kidding, here," France pulled her real present from behind her back—it was a stack of sheet-music from one of Senta's favorite operas.

"Thanks kiddo, I love it! And thanks for the laugh," she added the last bit as she threw the air-guitar note at France, who let it hit her in the shoulder and fall to the floor.

"Your gift is in the mail," father informed her when it came time for her parents to present their offerings, "Your big present I mean… but there is one other thing, it's not wrapped—honey, where did you put…?"

"It's hanging up in your room—go try it on!" mother urged Senta as she began to gather the plates together with her husband's help.

Most people would find it presumptuous that her mother had removed the tags already, but Senta couldn't blame her, the dress was clearly a perfect match for its intended owner. Eagerly, Senta stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt and pulled the cotton fabric over her head gingerly. The hem fell down to tickle the back of her legs, just below her knees. It was soft and very comfortable; pale blue in colour. It was the sort of dress that had a timeless look to it, and that would be perfectly appropriate to wear on any occasion; to a wedding or a day at the beach. She twirled a little and stood on her bear tip-toes, enjoying the look of the delicate patterns and seams. She glanced up at herself in the mirror and smoothed out the front of the dress.

The doorbell rang.

By the time Senta descended the stairs in her new dress, the guests were in the kitchen, talking with the rest of the family.

"Senta honey? Are you dressed yet? Come meet your cousins Elizabeth and Weatherby," her mother called from the kitchen.

Senta was not familiar with either name.

Judith ran out into the foyer to see Senta before the others, "Stunning Senta… really gorgeous," she was beaconing for her sister to follow her into the kitchen.

"It looks perfect darling," her mother said excitedly before she moved from the doorway so that Senta could see their guests, "This is Elizabeth…"

The woman was standing beside her empty chair, Senta had to do a double-take to be sure she wasn't looking at a painting. Elizabeth looked like porcelain and oil-paint; delicate and docile, her long, thin frame was balanced in a way that reminded Senta of a ballerina. She was wearing a long green dress with an off-white cardigan. Her hair was nearly hip-length and set into soft golden curls. The expression on her face displayed the utmost confidence. Inexplicably, Senta found herself imagining Elizabeth as Helen of Troy; aloft in a tower behind the armies of the old world.

"And this is Weatherby."

Senta did feel something when she first saw him. Time didn't stop, stars didn't fall—the universe didn't suddenly make sense, but something happened. A tightening in her chest and the sudden ominous feeling that something important was happening… or like something had already begun, but Senta had only just become a part of it.

Weatherby was standing a few feet behind his mother, his hands were clasped behind his back and he had the unmistakable air of a body-guard—not at all like he was enjoying himself, but vigilant and protective of the woman. He was a tall, well-built man with thick, dark hair, ceramic skin and mystic dark eyes. Like Elizabeth, he was attractive and remarkable to a supernatural degree. The image of him inspired visions of myths and monsters… knights, Olympic gods and sung heroes.

The words "Pleased to meet you," never passed her tongue. Instead, she just stared, reminded herself that Elizabeth and Weatherby were both family and tried to get her mouth working. When that didn't work, she curtseyed.

Judith howled with laughter and clapped while the rest—including Elizabeth—smirked. Senta thought she saw Weatherby smile out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked at him straight on, his face was blank.

"Very funny," said mother with a roll of her eyes and a blush. She came up and put her hand in the small of Senta's back, it may have just been Senta's imagination but it seemed like mother was pushing her, rather forcefully toward Weatherby, but at the last second she veered off and sat her down at the kitchen table with a subtle shove. "Senta was just trying on her new dress. Isn't she lovely?"

"Fascinating," said Weatherby quietly.

Senta glanced at him, but Weatherby was no longer looking at her, his glittering eyes had turned toward the window; the sea in the darkness.

Mabel and Ragamuffin approached the stranger's ankles cautiously and rubbed against his black boots, purring like little kittens.

"Well, you two are the first to arrive for the reunion… so you get first dibs on the rooms. Cake?" mother offered them dessert with a smile.

"Thank you," said Elizabeth in a musical voice, "It has been such a long flight… and then the boat ride to the island left late and it rained a little but… well, we both love the sea, and sailing has always been a pleasurable pastime so… lovely, really lovely." Elizabeth dithered away merrily while the rest of them listened, "I'm sorry Rachelle, I'm not sure I've gotten everyone's names?" she seemed nervous, Senta decided. It was odd to think of a woman so beautiful being nervous in front of strangers.

"Well, you know David," she motioned to father who raised his glass and then downed it, "and this is Francine—called France usually, and this is Judith, and of course, Senta… she's just turned twenty today."

"Happy birthday," said Elizabeth, "So young…" she added under her breath. Or at least, that is what Senta thought she heard her say, though that seemed unusual as well, since Elizabeth couldn't be older than twenty-five herself.

Weatherby was apart from the rest of the room now, standing on his own beside the window. He was still just staring at the water. Senta found that she suddenly felt very uncomfortable around him. She wanted to go to bed.

There was a long, awkward silence, in which everyone stared at their shoes, except for Senta who stared at Weatherby, and Weatherby himself who had his eyes closed as he leaned against the window-sill.

"Well uh… it's been a long day… where is that room?" Elizabeth spoke up.


	3. Consanguinity

Chapter Two: Consanguinity

It was only nine o'clock, but Senta rested her head against her pillow, anxious to be asleep. Ragamuffin pranced gracefully over her covers and meowed into her face before she plopped onto Senta's stomach, purring and kneading a little at her side.

"Senta?" whispered a voice at the door.

"Yeah France?" Senta rolled over to see France entering her room. She was wearing a tiny Thirty Seconds to Mars t-shirt and boxers, but had her favorite flannel blanket wrapped over her shoulders like a cape.

"Come on," France motioned for Senta to follow her.

Senta sighed, but sat up and cracked her neck, running her hand over Ragamuffin's head before following France into the hallway. It was only then that she noticed France was holding something.

"Where are we going?" asked Senta, "Come on France, I'm tired," she added when France merely hushed her.

"Judith's room," France said unhelpfully.

Judith was staying in the converted guest room one floor above them. They crept quietly, and must not have waked anyone, because they made it to Judith's temporary sleeping quarters undiscovered.

"Who's there?" Judith actually sounded frightened, as the door opened. The light was still on and the girls saw why, as they walked inside just in time to see Judith drop something very quickly and stand up. Her cheeks were puffed out and her eyes were watering.

"W-what are you… oh…" Senta looked behind Judith's back to see a beautiful five foot tall brass and ruby coloured hookah. It was lit.

Judith looked relieved when she saw it was just her sisters. She opened her mouth to release a billowing cloud of smoke.

France was laughing, but she shut the door and quieted herself with her sister's encouragement.

"You _smoke_?!" Senta couldn't help but be a little disgusted.

"Only on the hookah!" Judith defended herself, "It was a pain sneaking it up here without mum and dad noticing…" she had relaxed considerably, now that she knew she wasn't going to get caught with contraband on her first night.

"That's _worse_ for you than regular cigarettes!" said Senta, "And you're the one who said I shouldn't drink."

"You shouldn't," said Judith sharply, "drinking is stupid."

"Yeah… Smoking on a hookah is totally bad for you, even without assuming that there is any illegal contraband mixed in," said France knowingly, "Can I try?" had managed to stop chuckling and was approaching the hookah curiously.

"Absolutely not," said Judith stepping protectively in front of the hookah.

"Mum and dad are going to notice the smell," said France, put off by being denied.

"That thing's huge…" Senta circled the hookah, "How much was it?"

"You know," Judith blushed, "I don't remember. I've had it for a really long time."

"How long have you smoked?"

"Don't worry about it baby," said Judith dismissively.

Senta looked reproachfully at the hookah, then decided to leave it alone for now.

Judith coughed and sat down. She was wearing a black tank top and underwear and they could now see several inches of artistic henna tracing over her back and onto her shoulders, "What time is it?"

"Nine fifteen."

"…Okay. What do you want?" asked Judith, clearly confused.

"Well… I wanted to talk to you guys!" said France when she saw the accusing stares of her sleepy sisters.

"We surfed for like five hours today… I'm exhausted. Aren't you?" Judith fell back against her covers. For a moment they were all quiet, but then Judith leapt up immediately, "Oh! I almost forgot… Weatherby!"

"Exactly!" said France with a huge smile and a high pitched giggle.

Judith licked her lips obscenely.

"He's our _cousin_!" said Senta, scandalized.

"Yeah—but what does that mean? We've never even met him. We've never even _heard_ of him or Elizabeth. They're probably like our… ninth cousins three times removed or something. It's as good as perfect strangers, right?" said France hopefully.

"Anyway—he's not related to _you_ at all," said Judith giving Senta a little shove, "and you were staring at him like he was a bottle of sweet wine from Sauterne, Bordeaux… Chateau d'Yquem… from the 1787 vintage," Judith finished, breathless, "delicious…"

"That's what you pulled me out of bed for?" Senta looked incredulously at France, who shrugged. Senta felt very red and embarrassed. She hadn't been staring that much, had she?

"Um, no," France's face fell, "But it's kind of fun to start with something… you know, cheerful."

"What's wrong?" Judith suddenly looked concerned.

"I found these today, when I was raiding the attic—I don't know… I just thought it seemed really weird," France set a couple of old sheets of parchment on the bed. It was the excerpts from James Turner's diary. She sat down on the ground next to the hookah and gave it a longing look.

Senta read the first paragraph outloud, "What is this?" she stopped when she got to James, expanding on his rejection of immortality.

"Mum _says_ that he's just some crazy ancestor, but I don't know… He seems so sincere, I read through everything that's there… But here's the weird part," she snatched the first page back and handed them the second, pointing to the passage that was interesting to her.

_I grew up with the idea of living forever in my mind, my mother Elizabeth and my older brother Weatherby had already made the decision to stay alive as long as my father was cursed to roam the seas…_

"Huh… that's weird," said Judith, "Family names though…" she dismissed it, snatching the page out from under Senta's eyes, in spite of the fact that she wasn't done reading it, "That's what's in, you know? Name people after ancestors."

"But isn't it weird?" France pressed them, gathering the pages in her lap.

"Sure—I've heard the name Weatherby before, I just never understood why anyone would subject a child-"

"-I mean about them being _immortal_!" said France.

"What are you suggesting, cheerleader? That _our_ ninth cousins three times removed—or whatever—are _the_ Elizabeth and Weatherby mentioned here? First of all, she isn't old enough to be his mom—they're probably twins, I didn't ask, but the thought occurred to me."

"Look, you've got to let me get to the interesting part—I'm not suggesting anything crazy, I'm just saying, I think there's a connection… James Turner talks about all of this stuff—about his dad being cursed to sail forever and take the souls of those who die at sea beyond, and about how he returns _every ten years_, kind of like how we have this creepy, 'adults-only' family reunion _every ten years_. I haven't finished lining up all the dates yet, but I think this is supposed to be around the time that William Turner can walk on land again—no, listen! What if the family hires _actors_ every ten years to come to the reunion, pretend to be our creepy ninth cousins three times removed and act out this story? It is part of our heritage!"

"It's a crazy part of our heritage. It's the part that gets people locked up in hospitals!" Judith argued. "Hiring people to reenact the delusions of one of your ancestors is even crazier than any of it actually being true!"

"But it's so _interesting_!" France said in a hiss, "And I want to stay!" she added angrily.

"Oh, is that what this is about?" sighed Judith.

"It's not fair that you guys can just send me away like this! This reunion is a big deal, and I want to know why. It's totally stupid. I'm seventeen, and that's as close to being adult as… as… as I've ever been!" she finished lamely.

"France. Finish packing up your booty-shorts and pleated skirt. You've got cheercamp. When you get back, we'll tell you _all about_ the reunion. I'll even include a couple of ghost stories for good measure."

France glared at Judith.

The shouting might have ended then, except that Senta suddenly noticed smoke. "FRANCE!" she jumped up to her feet.

France screamed and jumped up, as she too noticed that the excerpts from James Turner's diary were on fire—they had been resting a little too close to the coals on the hookah.

The three sisters descended into momentary chaos as they attempted to stomp out the miniscule flames without damaging the carpet.

"Mum's going to flay me alive!" France looked in despair at the burned edge of the paper. It wasn't destroyed, but it was a whole lot harder to read up near the top now, and three lines had been destroyed completely on the top of each page—including the bit that mentioned Elizabeth and Weatherby…

"Ugh… what about this… she's sure to notice this," Judith was kneeling on the ground, scratching at a black burn in the carpet.

"I'll help you hide it tomorrow," said Senta, "There's a rug in my room that will look really good in here…" she took in the décor. "Get that thing out of the house," she added, motioning to the hookah.

Judith didn't answer but stood up straight and groaned, "Alright, enough playtime… and arson. Get out."

By the time Senta arose the next morning, France had left. It was nearly nine o'clock, but Senta waited until ten to come downstairs. She stayed holed up in bed with Ragamuffin, playing with her silky grey and white hairs. Blue eyes stared down blue eyes while she tried not to think about what Judith and France had said about Weatherby the night before. She wasn't sure why it was so uncomfortable a topic for her… they hadn't said anything that wasn't perfectly true. She and Weatherby were not, technically related at all—as far as they knew. And he was attractive… not just attractive, actually. He was exquisite. There had been very few occasions in Senta's life when she had seen a man in real life who possessed Weatherby's unique and intense appeal. It was impossible for her to imagine behaving like a normal person in front of him. She wasn't used to talking or walking or being at all around men who she was really genuinely attracted to.

Like last night, when she curtseyed. What the hell?

"Good morning!" said mother as Senta entered the kitchen, "You look nice."

"Thanks," Senta self consciously smoothed out the front of her dress. She had decided to get right to the point and change into her bikini since she had slept so late, and Judith was likely down at the beach already. She had put on a simple black sundress over her suit.

"Are you wearing mascara to swim?" mother smirked.

"Um… did anyone else show up last night?" Senta refused to answer her mother's question as she plucked an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table.

"Yes. I'm glad. We had five families show up from ten to two… Your father put up some lovely signs to direct people on where to go…"

"Who's here?" Senta asked, trying to sound interested.

"Carol and Beth," she said, naming two paternal aunts, "And their families… and some seconds cousins I've never met before."

"Where are they all staying?"

"We're trying to fill up the guest house before we move people in here… cousin Justine already _requested_ to have your room. I told her it was okay, is that alright?"

"Err, yeah," Senta was still barely listening.

"She won't be here until later tonight, but you still might want to think of moving in before too long… Elizabeth and Weatherby are staying in the lighthouse, so you should be able to get to know them better."

"Huh? I thought you said we were filling up the guest house first…"

"Yes," mother turned pink, "But Weatherby specifically requested the lighthouse… I don't think Elizabeth cared… speaking of which… honey,"

Now Senta perked up to listen. Mother had called her 'honey' in exactly the tone of voice that she always used when she was either hiding something or asking for something particularly difficult, "About Weatherby…"

"Yeah?"

"You may not have picked up on it last night but he's… a little awkward around people. He has trouble socializing, and I was hoping that you could, you know… show him around the island… talk to him… try being friends with him, okay?

"Yeah, sure…" said Senta quietly, but what she was really thinking about was the impossibility of doing this without any more embarrassing 'curtsey' episodes.

"Judith is at the beach… so is Weatherby," mother smiled at Senta.

On her walk to the beach, Senta tried to comfort herself with the thought that once she saw Weatherby in swim trunks, acting like an annoying young man trying to show off in the waves in the beach, she wouldn't find him nearly as attractive as she had when she first saw him. He had been dressed in a black business suit the night before, and surely his face and aura wouldn't really be the way she remembered them. No one was that alluring.

He probably wasn't in shape either, she assured herself. She would see in a moment when she got down to the beach. He'd be pasty and thin, or have a premature beer-gut or something…

The beach was more crowded than Senta had ever seen it. Of course, since it was their own personal island, it was kind of unusual to have to share it with anyone at all. As Senta moved down the hill she found that she actually had to search through the dozen or so family members in order to find Judith.

The grass mingled with the sand before the green disappeared completely in warm white sand.

"Hi Beth… hi Carol," she waved to her aunts when she noticed them. They were walking down the beach together, talking and watching their respective adult daughters entering the whitewash together.

Judith was lying on her towel, her face covered by a Rasputina T-shirt. She was really quite pale, Senta noticed when she laid her towel down next to her sister and removed her dress. Judith had maintained a pretty healthy glow when she lived on the island, but it seemed that being at the university had taken its full effect.

"You're a marshmallow."

"Well, you're just a burnt marshmallow," Judith responded through the fabric. She lifted one hand and scratched at her navel. She had gotten it pierced in the ninth grade, but had since opted to remove it. Senta noticed more henna patterns peeking out through the top of her bikini bottoms, right on her hips, "take a look at our ninth cousins three times removed."

Senta hadn't seen Weatherby or Elizabeth yet. She was purposely trying not to look for them actually. But now that Judith had said something, she let her eyes comb the surf. She found Elizabeth pretty fast.

Elizabeth was wearing a stylish green one piece and a wheat-coloured sarong, she had waded out to knee-depth and seemed to be enjoying the air. Her angelic golden hair danced and twisted over itself in the breeze as she swayed a little, tracing her fingers through the water.

"Where's Weatherby?" Judith asked after a moment of searching for him in the water.

"Wrong direction," Judith said as she pulled the t-shirt off her face. Senta was relieved to see that Judith was wearing mascara too.

Weatherby wasn't in the water. He wasn't even wearing swim trunks. He was a in a black business suit that looked remarkably like the one he had on when they first saw him the night before. He was sitting on a towel on the beach, reading a book.

"At least he lost the tie," said Judith with a little chuckle.

"Does he not like swimming?"

"I don't know—why don't you go ask him?" Judith prodded Senta with one foot. Her toes were covered in toe-rings, and the metal glittered in the sunlight.

"No. I think he's alright…" muttered Senta.

"Senta… come on," Judith sighed and sat up, wrapping her arms around her legs, "You want him, right?"

"I just met him—and this is a _family_ _reunion_. Not, typically, the place to find romance."

"Yeah—but you want him," said Judith smartly, she raised and lowered her eyebrows rapidly.

"Don't _you_?!" Senta asked in exasperation.

"I'll be totally honest with you, Senta, my love… While, I will admit that Weatherby is a very attractive young man—well, I'll go as far as to say that's he a pocket full of extra-hot tamales, but no, honey-cakes… I don't _want_ Weatherby." Judith rolled her eyes.

Senta thought that it seemed even less alright, now that she knew that Judith—and probably France—were just trying to encourage her. "He is still family," said Senta quietly.

"Family you've never met, and who you are not actually related to in any way—come on Senta, I will only tolerate that argument once. Give me a real reason, or go jump his bones."

"Judith!" Senta groaned, "I don't _do_ that kind of stuff. I've never even had a boyfriend—not really, you know? This is why."

"Because you're a shy waif?"

"Yes."

"That's stupid. Men love shy waif-ish creatures."

"No they don't—men like girls like _you_."

"You speak the truth… let me clarify," Judith got a look on her face like an extremely learned professor explaining a complicated philosophical principle to a goldfish, "Some men like ladies like me… and some men like ladies like you. Weatherby is one of the latter. Trust me… did you ever see The Little Mermaid?!"

"Are you suggesting I take off my clothes and sing?"

"Well—maybe later," Judith shrugged, "You notice how the prince fell for the mermaid even though she couldn't speak?"

"That was a cartoon, first of all…" said Senta heavily, "and secondly, in the real story, the prince ditches the mermaid and she turns into sea foam."

Judith looked shocked and hurt, "Really?!"

"Yes. Really. That's the way Hans Christian Anderson wrote it."

"Bastard."

Senta sighed and stole another glance at Weatherby, who had set the book aside and was lying back with one arm over his eyes.

"Alright, well…" Judith seemed to have recovered from the unfortunate news about the little mermaid, "That kind of ruins my point—but do you understand what I mean? You don't need to have everything all intact at once, if you've got one good thing to start with."

"What one good thing do Weatherby and I have?"

"Chemistry."

"…I don't even know what that means!"

"It means that if this island was the Animal Kingdom, and we were all… lions, or something—you would already be part of Weatherby's harem."

Senta blinked at Judith, "You really don't know how to sell a point, do you?"

"Senta," Judith sighed the name in frustration and rubbed at her eyes.

"I'm serious… Don't major in marketing."

"You're avoiding the point."

"What _is_ your point?"

Judith mouthed wordlessly for a moment, then said "Go talk to the hot boy!"

"No."

Judith glared, "Then let's go surfing."

"What? You're giving up?"

"Looks like. The boards are in the shade…"

Senta was still put-off by Judith's sudden interest in hooking her up with Weatherby, but she invited the distraction of surfing.

The waves were not huge today, but they were strong and a lot of fun to play with. Judith was out of practice and struggled a bit to catch her first one, but Senta on the other hand, knew exactly what she was doing and commanded her board and the waves expertly. Her relationship with the sea had always been supernatural in her own mind, and her ability to surf like a wave-goddess had seemed like a clear indication that the ocean felt the same way about her.

On her board, she was able to forget about the weird family reunion, the hoards of strangers arriving at the house, Judith and her ridiculous hookah and warped philosophies… but she wasn't quiet able to forget about Weatherby. It seemed so stupid and pathological to be obsessed with someone who she hadn't even spoken to yet. In fact, she had heard him say exactly one word; 'fascinating'.

What was 'fascinating' anyway?

He had said that about her, hadn't he? About the way she looked? Or maybe not. Maybe he was off in his own world and was thinking about something else that was fascinating. He probably hadn't even really seen her until she curtseyed and made a prat out of herself. Then, his thoughts probably weren't 'fascinating' unless the context was 'what a fascinating idiot' or 'isn't it fascinating that she hasn't been locked up yet'.

Remarkable.

He was remarkable.

Who wears a business suit to the beach? Did he loose his luggage?

Why was she still thinking about him? Even at the most inopportune moments? Like when the leash of her board tangled around her ankle and she face-planted into a breaking wave and was tossed like a rag-doll in the merciless, but playful waters?

Why was it that the ocean sounded so much clearer and deeper whenever she pictured him in her mind? Why did he seem like he belonged with the ocean? Why the hell did she miss that last wave? It was cherry!

"How did you miss that one?" Judith called to her.

"Oh, I wasn't paying attention," said Senta truthfully. She lay flat on her stomach on the board and arched her back, paddling expertly into oncoming rolling waves. She found a good spot, popped up on her board and straddled it, waiting for another opportunity.

"I feel so out of shape," Judith stretched her arm across her chest and looked troubled, "Didn't I used to be really good at this?"

"You taught me everything I know. Look alive!" Senta quickly turned her board around in the water as a monster overtook them. Judith only had time to swear and dive through the blue as the wave broke, but Senta leapt up on her board before the wave had finished breaking. She could already tell from the curve and the speed that it would carry her without her encouragement.

It was easily the best wave of the day; huge and beautiful. Senta was able to cut a swath down the side before it broke entirely and carried her all the way to the sands.

Her various family members clapped and whistled as she reached the shore and leapt off her board to run alongside it in the sand. The wave reached its limit and traveled backwards, leaving Senta and her board on the sand.

"Groovey baby!" Judith yelled from way out in the ocean.

"Thank you, thank you," said Senta, blushing fiercely but willing to be pretty proud of herself for that display of supreme skill.

Then she saw that Weatherby was standing up; his hands hidden in the pockets of his suit. He was watching her.

Senta turned around abruptly and hoped her blush could be mistaken as slight sunburn. Her leash got wrapped around her ankle again and she stumbled, but thought she might have managed to make it look like a really not-graceful pirouette before she ran back into the waves.

As she passed Judith, she thought she heard her sister say something that sounded like, "Good, he's watching her."


	4. Der fliegende Holländer

Chapter Three: Der fliegende Holländer

"How were the waves?" mother asked from her place in the kitchen. Since there were so many people coming to stay, she had already announced that the kitchen would be her permanent station for the next two weeks. She had a lot of food to prepare.

"Excellent," said Senta, moving her salty hair away from her face.

"Did you have fun Judith?"

"They wasted me royally," Judith admitted, "I need to get back into surfing…"

"Have you offered to show Weatherby around yet?"

"What?!" Judith looked in surprised between mother and Senta.

"I asked Senta if she would help show Weatherby around a little…" mother said as if it was nothing.

"Err-well, no," said Senta trying to avoid Judith's accusing stares, "I got to the beach and we started surfing and he left pretty fast." It was true enough, Weatherby had barely been there for five minutes after Senta caught the monster-wave.

"Well—he's probably in the lighthouse, and he left this in here last night," mother picked up a cell-phone from the counter, and set it on the kitchen table, "Why don't you take it to him and give him a tour, right now," she suggested firmly.

Reluctantly, Senta picked up the cell-phone and whipped of the flour fingerprints that her mother had left on it, "Okay," she said weakly as she arose.

"Mmm, smells good mom, sugar cookies?" asked Judith, she looked very smug, but Senta was grateful that she didn't say anything embarrassing to Senta before she left.

The lighthouse was all completely automated now. Since the island was statistically unpopulated and did occasionally serve as a hazard to passing ships and boats. The light was programmed to turn on at night and off in the morning. Sometimes, father had to go and fix the light or adjust the on/off times, but for the most part the lighthouse just served as extra housing when they needed it.

It was about a quarter-mile from the main-house and looked like it belonged on a postcard. Senta and Judith used to race there when they were younger and the record was under a minute. It took Senta ten minutes to walk alone today. She was trying to think of something to say to Weatherby that wouldn't make her a moron. She turned the blue phone over in her hand as she thought. It occurred to her twice to open it up and see if there was evidence of a girlfriend.

But, of course he would have a girlfriend! A guy like that doesn't wander around on his own, for very long…

She didn't look at the phone for names or girly text-messages. She just kept it in her pocket and felt more like a stupid little girl with every step she took down the path to the lighthouse.

"Hello?" she called from the doorway, wondering if she could get away with just handing him the cell-phone and running away.

No one answered. After a moment's deliberation, Senta entered the lighthouse. It had a crisp, clear smell to it, and wasn't as boiling hot as the guest house. "Hello?" she called again.

She found their room pretty fast. The old lighthouse Keeper's bedroom was the biggest and most comfortable. The door was propped open. Senta knocked on the frame without looking inside, but once again, nothing and no one responded. She peaked through the cracked open door.

Even better, she thought to herself—she could just leave the phone on his bed and go home. She could tell mother that she couldn't find him, and it wouldn't even be a lie.

Senta entered the room, stepping gingerly over the floorboards. The bed was made and their luggage was still patched at the footboard. Senta walked to the bed and set the cell-phone down. She was about to bolt, when two curious objects caught her eye…

Two, very old black chests were resting around the side of the bed. They were pushed back towards the wall, half-hidden, really… but Senta could hear something. She approached the chests cautiously, and knelt down to get a better look at them. They were both black and heavy-looking, and covered in beautiful intricate patterns with complicated locks. The sound was stronger when she got closer… it was like the ocean, rhythmic and soothing… it sounded like a pair of heartbeats.

"Can I help you?"

Senta leapt to her feet, bonded six feet across the room and grabbed the cell-phone, "You left this in the kitchen," she said breathlessly before she even looked at Weatherby.

He was standing in the doorway and had managed to approach without making any sounds that could drown out Senta's own thoughts.

His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the doorframe, but he didn't seem angry. He glanced at the phone and said simply, "It's not mine."

"Oh… could it be Elizabeth's?"

Weatherby shook his head, "Sorry."

"Okay," said Senta, doubly embarrassed, not just that she had been snooping, but that she came here for nothing in the first place. She was ready to run again, when Weatherby spoke again.

"I was wondering, if it's possible to see the light up close?" he motioned toward the ceiling.

"O-oh, the light. Yeah," Senta nodded, "The trap door is locked."

"I noticed." He purred. His voice was dark and had a little bit of an edge to it, like a growl, but there was something familiar in the tone—like an old movie, or the sound of the waves crashing on the sand.

"I'll show you the key," she said nervously as she slipped the cell-phone into her pocket. Weatherby moved from the doorway so she could pass and followed her slowly, gracefully, like a shadow.

"It's just in this room," she motioned to another spare bedroom and skipped inside to quickly retrieve the key from the old roll-top desk. _'Dammit… dammit,'_ Senta thought to herself as she led Weatherby up to see the light. He was just as good looking up close and even more captivating when he actually spoke. At least he didn't seem to talk much.

"I'm not really sure why we keep it locked. Dad once said it was our last refuge point if we were ever attacked by pirates," she smiled at him, but Weatherby didn't seem to think it was funny.

Nervously, Senta laughed and turned the last corner on the spiral staircase up to the trapdoor. She slipped the key in the lock and pulled down the ladder quickly, climbing up into the lighthouse room a few steps before Weatherby.

Well, at least she would be able to tell mom that she had shown Weatherby around a little… Senta had been thinking she would keep the door open so she could leave as soon as Weatherby got interested in something, but the second he came up, he shut it himself and advanced on the glass windows that encompassed the room. The sea was like pure gold under the sky, glittering and dancing below the clouds, until it faded to blue and then merged with the sky.

Weatherby stared for a moment, captivated by the scene, then he moved slowly to the desk, toward the remains of a golden telescope that Judith had broken when she was seven.

Gently his fingers traced over the pieces.

"That's been broken for ages," said Senta.

"It's not broken," said Weatherby quietly, "It's just in pieces…"

Senta failed to see the difference, but didn't try and press the point.

Weatherby began to fiddle with the parts and arrange them into little piles of gold and glass, "You were adopted into the Turner family when you were twelve years old," he said, "Tell me about that."

Senta was momentarily stunned by the personal nature of the question. She squirmed in place for a moment and turned away from him, choosing to face the window instead and watch the waves, "Well, uh…" she coughed to clear her throat, "It was… it was great," she wasn't really sure what to say.

"And before?"

"Before… I was a ward of the state," and then it was suddenly easy to talk, "I don't know anything about my real parents. I lived on the streets and that's my earliest memory. The streets of Milan. I think I stole stuff most of the time… I remember," she chuckled a little, though it wasn't at all funny, "I remember when I first learned that some people actually lived in those buildings. I didn't know that. I didn't realise that anyone was different from me. I don't remember why I left the city. I was pretty young. I just got on a train and then I got on a boat. I don't think I had tickets for either of them. I didn't even bother stealing any… I just got on. I knew all the best places to hide… I made it to Florida before they caught me, but they didn't send me back to Italy… A nice family took me in, but money was tight and I only stayed with them for a few months before they turned me over to the state. Then I stayed with a couple of not-so-nice families… then I came here."

"Did you love them right away?"

"I think so," Senta admitted, "I thought Mrs. Turner was the most beautiful woman in the world… and father always treated me special. Judith and I were best friends right away… I'd always wanted a big sister. France was so cute. She always wanted to play with me."

"Very few children get properly adopted into families when they're older… like you were."

"Yeah. I'm really lucky."

Weatherby was quiet for a moment. Senta turned and looked at him again. He was still pouring over the desk. The telescope still looked like junk to her, but he was concentrating hard on two pieces that looked like they should go together. "Who named you?"

Senta swallowed, "I don't know," she admitted, "probably a Gypsy who really liked Wagner."

Weatherby actually smiled. She saw it on the edge of his face, as he was still turned away from her, but he didn't look up from his work. "Then, you are familiar with Wagner's story of The Flying Dutchman?"

"Sure… it's one of my favorites."

"Naturally," said Weatherby softly, "I suppose you know about Wagner's inspiration as well?"

"I read a book once, where it said he got the idea on a voyage," Senta strained her memory, but honestly couldn't remember any more details.

"Crossing from Riga to London," Weatherby specified the circumstances, "the trip was very rough… I think he captured the feeling perfectly in his music."

Senta nodded, but she didn't really know—having never experienced a rough sea voyage.

Weathebry set down the piece he had managed to repair during their conversation and took two steps away from the desk. He faced her, still looking pensive. She wondered if he was about to ask her another intensely personal question—and the thing that frightened her the most was the knowledge that she wouldn't lie to him, no matter what he asked.

Senta held her ground while Weatherby approached her, "I usually hate to hear about someone like Senta." and she knew immediately that he was talking about the heroine in Wagner's Opera, "Someone who sacrifices their life to save someone as… _unworthy_ as The Dutchman."

"I don't think The Dutchman was unworthy," said Senta quietly.

"That's because you _are_ Senta." Weatherby's smile reappeared as he cautiously lifted one hand and placed in on the side of her head, feeling her still-wet hair.

Senta wasn't breathing, but Weatherby was rather calm. He pulled a small piece of seaweed from her hair. Blushing furiously, Senta bit her lip but before she could say anything, Weatherby had popped the seaweed into his mouth and turned away from her with a smirk.

For a moment, Senta just stared open mouthed at the back of him. Weatherby nonchalantly returned to his work with the telescope, and Senta bolted for the trapdoor.

Senta reentered the kitchen to find it looking much the same as before, with mother at her place by the stove and Judith in the kitchen chair—but Judith had changed into a dark green spandex running suit with a zip-up front and running shoes.

"Care for a jogging buddy?" asked Senta quickly.

"Yeah—go change! Fast," said Judith and Senta darted upstairs before either of them could ask about Weatherby.

Senta threw her half-dried hair into a pony tail and pulled on a pair of running shorts and a t-shit over her bikini. Normally, she would take her iPod with her, but Judith would want to talk, and Senta definitely needed advice. She tied her shoes and grabbed Judith on her way out the door, once again, attempting to avoid questioning from her mother, who was looking at her strangely.

"Alright, what happened?" asked Judith as the two of them paused to stretch a little at the gate.

"Uh… nothing, really, he just ate some seaweed from my hair."

Judith frowned, "I didn't think he seemed like that type," she said vaguely.

"The hair-seaweed-eating type?"

"Yeah."

"There's a type?"

"Sure. There's lots of types."

They finished stretching sooner than recommended and began to jog. They didn't talk again until they had passed the lighthouse.

"Well—tell me everything!" said Judith impatiently.

"The cell-phone wasn't his."

"I know."

"What do you mean, you know?!"

"It's my phone, I let mom borrow it," said Judith with a grin.

Senta sped up and growled incredulously, "Why would you do that?! It's so weird!"

"We're just trying to force you to talk to him," said Judith in a would-be innocent tone. They rounded the curve of the island and traveled up a hill, keeping close enough to the edge so that they could get the full advantage of the ocean view, but far enough away that they weren't in danger of rolling down the side of the hill unless they wanted to.

"Look—he's… He's really… I don't know! I think he might be crazy."

"That's hot," Judith hissed and sped up.

"He asked me all these really personal questions!"

"Like what, did he ask if you were a virgin?"

"No! I mean, about coming to live here and being homeless and whether it was hard for me, stuff like that!" said Senta furiously.

"So, that's good, he's interested in you!"

"I think he's interested in me the way a telescope-repairman is interested in broken telescopes!" Senta blurted out without really understanding her own words.

Judith blinked at Senta, "That's deep."

"Shut up, it's not funny."

"I never said it was funny."

"He's just… just way too amazing to be at all interested in me. He's like this smooth, cool… totally psychotic worldly man, who's probably got a girlfriend. She's probably amazing. I bet she's a model. Or a famous actress in another country—or like a geisha or something."

"He doesn't have a girlfriend," said Judith firmly, "Elizabeth told us this morning. He's very available."

"I don't understand anything about him, okay?! I have no idea what he's on, or where he comes from or anything, he's like… he's just so… you know?"

"Who's that?" Judith asked so suddenly that Senta almost kept talking, but then she saw him too.

The girls' jogging slowed to a cautious walk as they approached the figure who was walking disjointedly across their path.

The man was not tall but he had an impressive air about him that made Senta think he would be very easy to spot in a crowd. It helped that he was dressed in an absolutely outrageous (and surprisingly authentic) looking pirate costume. His coat was ancient and tattered with the large cuffs and pseudo-militaristic lines and fastenings—he had on a number of belts, which were strapped with various items of a curious nature. His hair was not unlike what Judith would have been quite used to seeing on the campus; long and thick to a point of wondering if he was hiding anything particularly bulky in the mane. It was dark brown in colour and accessorized by a number of beads, coins, bones, dreads and other things that neither young woman was willing to guess at. The whole mop was covered by a faded bandana and a brown three cornered hat that had seen better days.

"What the hell kind of…" Judith trailed off and seemed unable to know whether to laugh or not, "Sir?" she called to him, "Are you alright?"

It was a pretty good question, considering his context. The man had not looked at them at all since appearing in their view, but was stumbling back and forth over the road, turning about abruptly and changing his direction at seemingly random intervals and mumbling to himself while his eyes stayed glued to a small black object balanced on his hand.

"Excuse me?" Judith said again as she approached him, "are you _lost_?"

"Lost?! There it is!—" he yelled out suddenly before he turned without warning and plowed right into Judith.

Senta's eyes were wide but she didn't catch what happened next—one minute the pirate had knocked Judith to the ground and the next, they had both vanished in a cloud of sand and dust—rolling very fast down the side of the hill and shouting at each other.

"Judith!" Senta shrieked then covered her mouth and watched in terror until the rolling ball of fury and curses finally came to rest at the bottom of the hill. She ran down the hill, pausing briefly to pick up the black item that the pirate had been holding—which turned out to be a broken compass.

When Senta reached them, they were struggling with a rather delicate problem. Two of the pirate's dreadlocks had somehow tangled with the front zipper on Judith's jogging suit, and they were each doing their best to free themselves while keeping the pirate's hair in his scalp and Judith's clothes on.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger—stop squirming wench!" the pirate yelled, "Ouch!"

"Get your filthy face away from my rack!"

"Get your_ rack_ to stop biting me!"

"It's a zipper!"

"Unzip it—I'm sure you know how!"

Angrily, Judith wrenched the zipper down hard, revealing several inches of bare flesh. The pirate let out a string of obscenities, as she had managed to hit him pretty hard on top of the head with her fist while freeing him.

"You broke my zipper!" Judith hissed, looking incensed and very red.

"You nearly killed me!"

"—random schizophrenic pirates attacking me in the middle of _my_ _island_!" Judith growled at him while scrambled to pull the spandex over her chest.

"You're the one who pulled me down with you over that cliff, you prairie-harpy fish-wife island stealing poxy bucko… ess!"

Judith and the pirate were circling each other and snarling like pack animals fighting over meat—it was impossible for Senta to grasp exactly how that had escalated so quickly.

"-where did you come from?!" Senta finally interrupted the two of them.

The pirate seemed to suddenly notice that Judith wasn't the only person there. He straightened up a little shook out his manky mane and put his hat back on, "The sea."

Judith was still looking angry and embarrassed, with her shirt falling open whenever the fabric slipped out of her sweaty hands, "Why are you dressed like a pirate?" she spat at him.

"Why are you dressed like an avocado?"

"This island is completely separate from the mainland—where did you come from? Where is your _ship_?" Senta spoke quickly, wanting to get the useful information before the two of them slipped into their argument again.

"Over there," he pointed to the empty sea, "Ah thank you," he snatched his compass back from Senta's hands when she turned to look out to the sea.

"I don't see any ship."

"It's invisible." Jack was inspecting his compass very closely.

"Who the hell are you?" Judith finally managed to ask a would-be civil question.

The man snapped the compass shut and looked at the two of them through half lidded heavily darkened eyes. Up closer Senta could get a better assessment of his appearance. His skin was sun-tanned and he had a grimy, gritty looking appearance overall, and a funny little beard that was beaded to match his hair. His clothing looked like it had once been very fine, tailored period-costuming… it could have been very expensive, nice clothing, but it was now dusty, tearing here and there and had the distinct look of having been slept it repeatedly without ever being washed.

"_I_ island lassies… am Captain Jack Sparrow."

Neither of them really knew what to say to that, Senta caught Judith's eye and saw that her facial expression conveyed the exact feelings she was experiencing.

"I am looking…" he continued, his bejeweled hand tracing over the pocket where he had placed the compass, "For my Weatherby."

"_Your_ Weatherby?" Judith's eyebrows nearly merged with her hairline.

"Weatherby Turner?!"

"That's 'im," Jack smiled, revealing metal sheen around several of his teeth, "He's my Godson… I was hoping to accompany him on a voyage that I know he shall be taking very soon."

"A voyage?" Judith repeated, "Where's Weatherby going?"

"Latvia."


	5. A PleasureDome of Unnumbered Jacks

Chapter Four: A Pleasure-Dome of Unnumbered Jacks

In spite of the fact that Jack Sparrow wasn't much taller than either of the girls, he still managed to outstrip them once they pointed out the lighthouse where Weatherby was staying. The jogged along behind him (Judith haphazardly so, as she was still trying to hold her shirt closed) Jack kept shooting them suspicious glances, like he wasn't quite sure why they were still following him. He sped up a little faster until they had to run to catch up to him at the lighthouse.

Weatherby was outside in an instant to greet his alleged Godfather. The two men didn't embrace or shake hands, Jack simply exclaimed "Weatherby!" as he slowed to a halt in front of him.

"Jack?" Weatherby said quietly, he was smiling but he looked baffled, "What are you doing here?"

"Same reason you're here mate," Jack smiled that same smile again.

Weatherby did not look at all soothed, but instead seemed even more confused.

"Where's mum?" Jack inquired.

"At the main house, with Mistress Rachelle."

"Excellent… I've wanted to meet this woman."

"Why have you wanted to meet my mother?" Judith demanded as the girls caught Jack and Weatherby in front of the lighthouse.

Weatherby looked unaffected by their presence, he was looking intently at Jack, who was also ignoring them, "Why are you here Jack?" he asked again.

"Really my boy, do you need to ask?" said Jack with a weary tone, he raised one eyebrow at Weatherby that seemed to sooth him a little.

"I didn't think I would see you again before…"

"Well, you know how I do love to create expectations and then destroy them," said Jack mysteriously.

"But… What about dad?"

"Yes. Well. I suppose it's been awhile."

Weatherby looked like he was suppressing laughter at that declaration, "You have_ never_ come to see him."

"I'm not here for _him_," said Jack simply, "Come on! Take me to this Rachelle."

"Weatherby," Judith squeezed herself between the two men and made Weatherby look at her, "Who the hell is this guy?!" she hissed.

"He's my Godfather," said Weatherby simply, "He's been invited to come to the reunion ever time, but he never shows up."

"Nothing personal," Jack shrugged, "It's just not really my kind of party." He smirked.

"That's why I'm surprised to see you," said Weatherby in barely more than a whisper.

"Well… Godson, I thought I would call in a favor."

"A favor? Of me?"

"Yes mate. Of you… I want to go with you."

"Go with me?!"

"To Latvia," he added quickly.

"…Right." Weatherby took a deep breath, "I'm not sure that's entirely allowed."

"I've got permission from the higher up," Jack crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back to look at Weatherby from just under the brim of his hat.

Weatherby looked very surprised at that. He features which usually seemed so sanguine and pensive were turned to disquiet, but he didn't protest or even say anything again.

"Mom's this way," said Senta quickly, wanting to disrupt the awkward silence. She was fairly certain that whatever Jack and Weatherby were talking about, they specifically did not want Judith or Senta to hear.

Weatherby looked straight at Senta and she felt a familiar sensation of being rooted to the ground and his eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment they simultaneously began to walk toward the main house.

Judith and Jack hung back, both of them seemed a little perplexed by the behavior of their friends. They froze and watched them walk off, then exchanged a look and hurried after them.

They didn't need to get all the way to the main house to see mother. She and Elizabeth were in the garden and watched the four of them approach.

"Jack?!" Elizabeth exclaimed, "What are you doing here?" she gathered her sarong in her hands and sprang forward, stopping short in front of the pirate, as if she wasn't quite sure she should embrace him.

"I was invited, wasn't I?"

"Well yes—but you never come," said Elizabeth, still smiling excitedly at him, "Is Gibbs with you?"

Jack's face fell, "Uh, no… I rather thought he would have beat me here actually. We didn't travel together," Jack's expression recovered quickly, "He probably just got sidetracked by some saucy wench."  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I think you're mistaking Gibbs with yourself," she looked in disapproval at Jack, crossing her arms.

"Quite possible… then again, you don't know Gibbs as well as I do," he winked at her.

"Who did Gibbs travel with?" Elizabeth wondered.

"Hector. He's planning on being here as well."

"Cap—Hector?!" Elizabeth caught herself, but wasn't able to disguise her shock, "Why is _he_ coming?! Why are you coming, for that matter... you both _hate_ Will."

"I cannot speak for Hector Barbossa, but _I_ certainly do not _hate_ Will," said Jack slowly, looking a little affronted, "I merely… well, he and I… We have a complex relationship."

"I seem to remember it all started with the two of you crossing blades," Elizabeth smirked.

Rachelle laughed.

Weatherby looked annoyed.

Senta and Judith furrowed their brows at each other—they had both been hopelessly lost in the ether from the beginning of this conversation.

"Yes," said Jack quietly. He flashed a flirty little smile at Elizabeth, "It was a row to remember… had something to do with pretty little bird, if I recall correctly."

Elizabeth frowned and glanced briefly at her bare feet before she said, "Rachelle? Can I make some tea?"

"Be my guest!"

Senta was at a loss for understanding what exactly was going on. No one wanted to explain who Will or Jack or Gibbs or Barbossa were, and why they were invited to the reunion. In fact, the adults seemed to be making a point about not saying anything. In spite of all this, Judith and Senta both took turns bringing it up every few minutes until Rachelle finally lost it and said, "Girls, if you ask one more time I'm putting you both on kitchen duty for the rest of the reunion! Honestly, you'll know everything soon enough, just wait. It's a mystery."

This, naturally, satisfied neither of them. Weatherby and Jack moved into the side garden to talk alone. Judith stood by the doorway, trying to pick up any phrases from their conversation but Elizabeth and Rachelle were both talking so loudly to each other that nothing could possibly be understood. Senta and Judith contented themselves to glaring at the lot of them and drinking their tea.

"Oh! Is that the time… I should start on the desert for tonight," Rachelle cried after about an hour of chatting.

"Can I help with anything?" Elizabeth offered.

Judith and Senta disappeared before they could be recruited to the kitchen as well.

"Well?" asked Senta of Judith as they walked down the garden path, toward the beach.

Judith exhaled a labored breath and pulled her hood up around her hair. She hadn't changed out of her broken running suit yet, but pulled on a sweater from the closet and called it good.

"Maybe France was right—they might be actors, they sure seem bizarre enough."

"Yeah… and in costume." Senta frowned, "Mom didn't even seem to care that Jack was dressed up like a buccaneer—did you see her offer to take his hat?! No sarcasm!"

"Yeah… There is definitely something eccentric going on with this reunion." Judith frowned, "I didn't want to say anything, but I jumped on the computer to check my mail this morning, and it default-logged me onto mom's account, and there was a 'purchase confirmation' for like a million and a half roses and lilies and things… and a gazebo, and a white silk carpet…"

Senta didn't know what to make of that, "I guess decorations are nice for a party but…"

"It was from a website that specialized in _wedding_ arrangements." Judith admitted, "It's just bizarre… Yeah, I think France was right. I think it's some sort of funky interactive play."

The two of them were quiet for a moment, lost in their own contemplations—then before Senta could think to change the subject, Judith spoke up again.

"It wouldn't be boring," she shrugged, "Nope… never boring."

"What are you talking about?" Senta followed Judith's gaze to see that her eyes were securely focused on two figures in the distance. Weatherby and Jack still seemed to be deep in conversation, though they had moved from the garden to the cliffs that overlooked the beach below. Most of the family was still enjoying the sunshine, sand and surf. More people had arrived in the last few hours. It was hard to tell form the parking lot, since the only cars that the ferry brought over belonged to Judith and Rachelle. Everyone else left there cars on the mainland and took a golf-cart with their luggage up from the little private port on the island. But she could see that there was quite a crowd of people forming on the beach. Still—it was preferable to the crowds on a public beach, but it was a rare site for the girls to see more than four people laying out on their beach.

Weatherby and Jack made a strange pair. Senta cocked her head at them, appreciating the stark contract between 'clean-cut, rational and elegant' and 'dirty, wild and very probably insane'.

"I can't stand boring." Judith sighed, "It's my greatest weakness."

"What is? What are you talking about?" Senta stopped walking and Judith took three more steps, still looking toward the men curiously, before she turned to face her sister.

"You know how everyone has that one big problem with relationships?"

"No."

"Well—they do. Everyone has a fatal flaw with the way they relate to people, particularly in romantic situations. Some people have _lots_ of problems, but everyone, absolutely everyone, has one little pet disease that they short of nurture and feed and just… can't let go of. It makes love and companionship and all of that… really miserable sometimes. In order to be happy you have to do you best to overcome that flaw, or find someone who compliments it without destroying you."

"…you lost me like three syllables in," Senta blinked.

"I'm trying to tell you why I don't have a boyfriend!" Judith blurted out.

"You're attracted to jerks," Senta helped her.

"Yes—that's true, but why?"

"…I don't know. Maybe it's because you're kind of bitchy."

"Thanks—I'm being serious."

"I know. I'll stop being a pain."

"Thank you."

"…Why _are_ you attracted to jerks?"

Judith sighed heavily, cracked her neck and motioned to Weatherby and Jack, "I _know_ what's good for me. Take those two—they're perfect examples, actually… See, I _should_ be with someone like Weatherby. Someone who's all stable and smart and rational and who can help balance out my… indiscriminant nature," she finished lamely. "But I'm not attracted to that. I'm attracted too… Jack! Crazy, dangerous—unstable jerks. It's the last thing in the world I should want but…"

"You want Jack?" Senta said in surprise, "He attacked you. Accidentally, really—but still."

"No, no, you're not understanding—I don't mean Jack specifically, I mean 'The Jacks of the World'. You know? The millions of millions of 'Jacks' crawling all over the planet, spreading their sensational madness… That's what I want. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I hope not, because it sounds like you're lusting after an imaginary pleasure-dome filled with unnumbered incarnations of Jack." Senta pointed to the pirate for emphasis.

Judith slapped her forehead and seemed to give up, "No!" she said faintly, "That's not what I'm saying…" she turned around and began a sulky march toward the beach, "This doesn't have anything to do with _Jack_! It has to do with my sudden realization that I'll never really be happy with anyone." Her voice got quiet towards the end of her speech and she faltered in her stride and stopped again. "I'm all… twisted. Either the guy is too dangerous for me, and I want him like mad—but then I realize he's all wrong for me, so I ditch him—or I find a guys who's really good for me, a real solid guy… and I get bored with him, so fast. Sometimes… I get bored with the dangerous guys too. I'm never going to find anyone…"

Senta couldn't help but smile, she stepped right in front of Judith and stopped down low so she could meet Judith's downcast eyes, "Hun, I hate to break it to you, but you're twenty-three. It's a little early to write yourself off as a spinster."

Judith's look hardened, "Do you know what _your_ fatal flaw is?"

"No," Senta furrowed her brow.

"You're too damn shy to really try."

It might have been the beginning of a fight, except that Senta was immediately distracted by a figure sneaking around the side of the house. "FRANCE!"


End file.
